


Slave to Love

by Love2Slash



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Trafficking, M/M, Physical Abuse, Prostitution, Sexual Abuse, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love2Slash/pseuds/Love2Slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Semi-AU.  Six months ago, Mike Ross accidently gatecrashed Harvey Specter's associate interviews at the Chilton Hotel.  Despite being sorely tempted to hire Mike, Harvey reluctantly decided it would be too much of a risk and appointed one of the young Harvard graduates in attendance instead, a decision he'd regretted ever since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Do whatever you need to keep him happy," Jessica had said, and Harvey had been absolutely fine with that. After all, it wasn't every day he was expected to close a deal by entertaining a client who also happened to be a multi-billionaire playboy and one of the richest, most successful businessmen in the world.

And so far it had been easy.

Thomas Reinhart was rich, arrogant yet charming and enigmatic, and to begin with, Harvey, not usually one to be easily impressed, had been somewhat in awe of the man. Dragging himself up from virtually nothing, Reinhart, now in his thirties, had rapidly built himself an entire empire of successful businesses across the globe, and Jessica had finally managed to bring him in as a client.

"Whatever you do, keep him sweet until he comes back in to sign those final documents on Monday," she'd hissed, watching approvingly as Donna had linked her arm companionably through his as she'd given him a guided tour of the offices. Jessica knew only too well that the final contracts, which she would spend the whole weekend personally preparing herself, would need to be signed in her office first thing on Monday morning in order to seal the deal, but between now and then she was entrusting Harvey with the important job of entertaining their lucrative client in order to keep it securely on the table.

"Let me get this straight," he'd said, an amused smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. "You want me to baby-sit a billionaire playboy who is renowned for his extravagant gambling and spending, not to mention his well-publicized battle with sex addiction, and to not even think about bringing him back until first thing on Monday morning?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Jessica had said, firmly nodding her head.

And so that's how Harvey had found himself to be accompanying Mr. Reinhart during his New York stay over the weekend. He'd pulled out all the stops too: the best restaurants, the best clubs, not to mention premium tickets for the Yankees game. The evening visit to the casino had been pretty much on the cards of course: after all, the man was well known for his audacious gambling, and although Harvey had been aware of the rumors of him throwing away half a million dollars on one spin of the roulette wheel, he hadn't been particularly shocked to find out they were actually true. By late Saturday evening, Harvey, having thoroughly enjoyed himself, had delivered Reinhart to his hotel suite, promising to pick him up in the morning.

"You want to come in for a nightcap?" Reinhart had asked him, lifting his eyebrows and smiling suggestively, giving Harvey the nod that rumors he'd heard about the man swinging both ways were very probably true. He politely declined, however. Not that he wasn't tempted – Reinhart was indeed very attractive – but he thought perhaps the old maxim about not mixing business with pleasure was good advice in this case, especially as there was so much at stake. Besides, he thought that although Jessica had insisted that he entertain the man, he doubted she would expect him to jump into his bed.

Instead, after meeting up in the morning, the two men breakfasted together then Harvey had Ray drive them out to Locust Valley, where they took in a round of golf at the prestigious Piping Rock Golf Club. 

"Is taking care of me wearing you out, Harvey?" Reinhart asked him as they sat in the back of the car, sipping champagne on the hour's ride back into the city.

Harvey decided honesty was the best policy. "A little," he admitted, "but seriously, whatever you want to do is fine by me."

"Look, I know Jessica has asked you to take good care of me, and I'll certainly be telling her that you have, but I'm sure you'll agree that everyone needs some down time to themselves."

Before Harvey could react, Reinhart reached into the inside pocket of his coat and plucked out a gold-edged card which he then passed over. "Why don't you go home and rest, Harvey," he said, "then let me show you a good time tonight? There's uh, shall we say a little _event_ at one of my friend's places tonight. I'll make sure you're on the guest list if you want to come. What do you say? Eight o'clock? Would that be good for you?"

"Are you sure?" Harvey asked, more about the promised 'down time' than the event itself. Nevertheless, he inspected the card before tucking it away in his wallet. He wanted to ask what kind of event it was, but knowing Reinhart's propensity for gambling, he guessed it was most probably a poker night or something like that.

"Absolutely sure," Reinhart said.

"Okay, then, thanks," Harvey replied. "I'll see you at eight."

Later that night, after a light meal, shower and change of clothes, Harvey, not wanting to bother Ray on a Sunday night, took a taxi, giving the driver the address on the gold card. The building was impressive, a classically styled sprawling townhouse on Park Avenue, with such an opulent aspect to the front that he was surprised to be greeted by Reinhart himself and not some sour-faced servant in a uniform. 

"So glad you could come," the man said, relieving Harvey of his overcoat as he was led into a dramatic double-height entrance hall with a marble gallery and sweeping curved staircase. "Take a seat, I'll get you a drink." 

Somewhere in the building, music was being played and quite loudly too, if its vibrating thrum was anything to go by. Harvey also thought he could hear voices although he chose, for now, to ignore them, and instead concentrated on the glass of scotch that his host had pressed into his hand as he was invited to sit on a comfortable couch in the sumptuous lounge.

"I hope you're going to enjoy what's on offer here tonight," Reinhart told him. "What's your sport, anyway?"

"Well, if you have to ask me that," Harvey said quickly with a grin, "I guess you didn't notice how excited I got at the Yankees game, or take a good look at my balls when you were in my office the other day." 

At that, Reinhart regarded him with one eyebrow quizzically raised but then he burst into laughter as Harvey continued to grin back. "Are you flirting with me, Harvey Specter?" he murmured, leaning closer.

Harvey hesitated. He did like Reinhart and enjoyed his company, admired him even, but that didn't mean he necessarily wanted to engage in any kind of overly flirtatious behavior with him.

"You like to be in control, don't you, Harvey?" Reinhart said, leaning back and regarding him critically. "Of course someone like you would do. Strong, intelligent, good-looking. You're a man who likes to be on top, if ever I saw one."

Harvey was used to being flattered and so took the compliments in his stride. The flirtatious double entendre, however, was a different matter. "What was it you wanted to know?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject. "What my favorite sport is?"

"Yes, Harvey," Reinhart said, nodding. "But I'll get straight to the point now, okay? What I want to know is, do you prefer women or men?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sex, Harvey. I'm asking if you're into women or if guys are more your thing."

Adept at concealing his emotions, Harvey barely flinched, but upon seeing Reinhart waiting expectantly, his tongue snaking out to lick his thin lips, he narrowed his eyes. "No disrespect," he said a little more gruffly than he meant to, "but I don't think that's really any of your business."

"Oh, but it is my business," Reinhart said with a throaty chuckle as he stood up and beckoned Harvey to follow him. "If you fully understand me?"

Not sure if he did or not, Harvey remained silent.

"Look, just come with me," Reinhart said, grasping Harvey's sleeve impatiently and guiding him towards the elevator to the rear of the vast room. "Make your choice," he said, indicating the control panel inside the car.

"I'm sorry?" 

Reinhart nodded at the buttons. "It's up for the girls or down for the guys," he said patiently, and then he nodded with a satisfied grin as Harvey, after a further few seconds of hesitation and despite his instincts telling him not to, reached out and slapped a button with the palm of his hand.

Within seconds they were exiting into the basement in what Harvey quickly realized was an opulent changing area, complete with showers, lockers, silky robes and an abundance of large fluffy towels. Feeling even more apprehensive now but saying nothing, he followed Reinhart's lead in putting away his valuables then removing his clothing and then he slipped on the silky robe and soft shoes supplied by his host. Firmly pushing his misgivings to the back of his mind, he then followed the other man through a door at the rear of the room.

The music Harvey had heard from the floor above suddenly swelled with a stronger steadier beat, thrumming in his chest; it seemed hotter here too, the air closer, sticky somehow, despite the air conditioning. A wide passageway stretched out before them, this one with many more doors leading to other rooms, all of them open, and Harvey wandered along behind his host, taking in the sights and smells of each doorway, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. Now, not only did the steady thump of the music continue to vibrate in his chest but there were multiple other sounds, not just the voices he'd heard before, much louder now, but also moans and groans and whimpered cries, both of ecstasy and of pain. Pausing in the doorway of a large room, he watched as a small crowd of about ten men, most of them wearing similar robes to one he himself was clothed in, were clustered around one of the tables. Moving cautiously nearer, Harvey could see there was a dark-haired young man positioned in the midst of them, naked, his body gleaming with sweat, and he was leant over face down, his thighs widespread, one leg bent up at the knee, and he was grunting loudly as the man behind him thrust into him hard. At the head of the table, another man was thrusting enthusiastically into his mouth whilst all around him, the others watched in appreciation, some of them touching themselves, their fists pumping, whilst others leaned closer, grasping, stroking and plucking at the young man's flesh.

As Harvey turned and wandered further in, he glanced into the next room. Here he was met with a similar sight, another man in the center but reclining in a black leather sling this time, with several others around him, some of them naked, watching as he was fucked on his back. His thighs were pushed up and spread wide so that his knees were almost beside his ears, and Harvey could hear him crying out with each hard thrust. 

"You can take your pick of these rooms, Harvey," suddenly Reinhart drawled close to his ear. "You go anywhere you want, do whatever you want. You just make sure you enjoy yourself, okay?"

Despite his misgivings, Harvey had to admit it was all very tempting – intoxicating even – and he silently nodded his thanks before watching as Reinhart slipped away into one of the rooms. He was almost painfully hard now, and so he moved further along the passageway to where the room fanned out into dimly-lit, cavernous space, a series of screened cubicles semi-disguising the various acts which were taking place within them. To the rear of the room there was a table offering various drinks and snacks, not to mention a wide range of condoms, lubes and gels, and Harvey drifted towards it, grabbed a bottle of water and stood against the wall before gulping it down. Part of him really just wanted to get the hell out of there, another part wanted to head into the rest room and deal with his urges in private before making his excuses and quietly leaving, and yet still another was tempted to enter one of the shadowy cubicles and take full advantage of what was being offered up to him on a plate. 

As he watched, a man with a gleaming bald head exited the cube nearest to him and he grinned at Harvey, clearly very pleased with himself and the service he'd received, and looking past him, Harvey could see a naked young man with long pale thighs kneeling on the floor, his dark blond hair pasted to the back of his neck with what looked like sweat. After glancing hurriedly all around him, Harvey entered the cubicle and sat down on the bench. The young man, although he was clearly not that much more than a boy really, Harvey decided, shuffled forwards on his knees. He didn't say anything - he seemed quite out of it really, his movements slow and languid, his head bowed - but as soon as he took Harvey's cock into his hand, Harvey found himself pulling the robe aside and spreading his thighs to give the boy better access. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, arching his back and involuntarily groaning out loud as the boy's hot, agile tongue slid tantalizingly along his length.

"Yeah, keep going like that," he groaned out in encouragement as the boy sucked him into his throat. He leaned back, his face tipped up to the ceiling but after a while he looked down, keen to see his cock disappearing into the boy's hot, wet mouth. In his excitement, he thrust a little too hard, hitting the back of the kid's throat and making him gag. Harvey placed his hand on the boy's shoulder by way of apology and as he looked up at him suddenly and Harvey stared down into his glassy eyes and realized who he was, with a shock he involuntarily jerked back.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, panic making him rough as he pushed himself up. The young man lost his balance, swearing as he was sent sprawling to the floor, and at that moment, panting and shocked, Harvey tugged his robe back tightly around himself. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled, throwing the words guiltily over his shoulder as he hastily exited the cubicle. 

In the shower room and with his pulse racing wildly, he rinsed himself off and then struggled into his clothes, his hands shaking. By the time he got home and poured himself a large scotch, he was feeling a little calmer, although he realized after his second drink that he was only trying to convince himself – but failing badly – that maybe the incident hadn't happened at all. 

It had definitely been him though, he confirmed to himself: that kid, the one with the amazing memory, the one who, despite his lack of a law degree or even any college education for that matter, had just happened to have been one of the most impressive young men that Harvey had ever met – a total genius, in fact. And what had his name been again?

But Harvey was just kidding himself again – he knew the kid's name all right: 

_Mike Ross._

It was a name he'd been unable to forget.


	2. Chapter 2

"How did it go with Reinhart?"

Harvey glanced up to see Jessica standing in the doorway of his office. 

"Well, you must have had a pretty good time if the bags under your eyes are anything to go by," she remarked. "I hope you left him happy last night. He's due in at eleven o'clock and I have a stack of papers for him to sign."

Actually, when Harvey had last seen Thomas Reinhart, he'd not only been cavorting with two lithe young men but snorting cocaine from the flat, carved stomach of one whilst having his dick sucked clean by the other.

"Uh, he was very happy," he said after clearing his throat.

"Good, and even after these contracts are signed and sealed this morning, Harvey, I want you to make it your personal mission to keep him that way."

She left as silently as she'd come, and Harvey rubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering if he looked as bad as Jessica had suggested. He conceded that he probably did. After all, it had been well after four that morning when he'd finally crawled into bed, and he hadn't been able to sleep either, with thoughts of Mike Ross running round his head. He'd lain there in the dark, remembering how he'd been so completely blown away by that amazing kid. So bright, so eager, so determined to make amends for the mistakes that had fucked up his life. Harvey had thought about him for weeks, no – months afterwards, especially when Rick Sorkin, the actual Harvard graduate he'd ended up hiring and then firing just six weeks later, had turned out to be a complete waste of space. He'd found himself wishing bitterly that he'd kept some sort of contact number for the dazzling boy-wonder, but he'd stupidly let him walk right out of the door, with nothing more than a handshake, a sorry and a no-can-do. 

And what was he now? A _prostitute?_

Once again, Harvey felt his skin grow hot as he recalled how Mike's mouth had felt on his cock, and hotter still when he remembered how he'd recoiled in horror when he'd realized who the boy was. Not that he hadn't found Mike attractive when he'd first met him, of course. He had – he was just Harvey's type – but somehow that just made everything seem even worse. Meeting and pursuing a younger man and then taking him to bed for the night, that was a whole different thing. Yes, he liked to wine them, dine them and fuck them hard, but a shady encounter with a boy in some club? That just wasn't his style, no matter how much he'd been tempted by it at the time. 

All of this he put firmly out of his mind, however, when he greeted Reinhart like a long lost friend in Jessica's office less than an hour later. The two men shook hands warmly, hugging and slapping each other's backs under Jessica's approving gaze.

"This is one great guy you've got yourself here," Reinhart enthused, taking the elegant pen Jessica was offering him and proceeding to sign each of the contracts on the dotted line. "A really great guy."

"Harvey's the best," Jessica replied, "which of course is why I trusted him to take care of you in the first place."

Later, when Harvey was finally able to snatch a few moments alone with Reinhart, having peeled him away from Louis's needy grip, he found he couldn't help himself. "I need to ask you some questions," he said hurriedly, "about what happened last night."

Reinhart leaned closer, smiling conspiratorially. "Why, Harvey?" he whispered. "You after a return visit already?" 

Harvey, usually so in control, again felt the heat rising in his cheeks. "Uh, not exactly," he replied. "The guys who were there –" 

"Harvey," Reinhart interrupted, his tone placatory. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about, I assure you. Discretion is the soul of that place. Your secrets are safe."

"It's not that," Harvey started to say, but then Jessica walked back into the room and he fell silent again.

It was several days before Harvey got the chance to speak privately with Reinhart again.

"Something still bothering you, Harvey?" he asked. He seemed a little irritated, and Harvey realized that the feeling was actually mutual. In fact, he was starting to realize that the longer he spent in the man's company, the less he actually liked him. He couldn't pin it down to any one thing either. There was a hard edge to him, a defined arrogance he didn't like, so that even if in some ways it had seemed that Reinhart was a reflection of himself, he was sure now that they were far less similar than he'd first thought.

"Yes," Harvey admitted. "It's about the other night." He was tempted to tell Reinhart about Mike, but he'd learned long ago to play his cards very closely to his chest. Besides, what could he actually say? That one of the guys there, the one who'd been down on his knees sucking him off to be precise, had almost became an employee of his once? Reinhart would be most likely to say _So fucking what?_ Therefore Harvey decided, instead, to play it cool. "I was wondering what the set up was, at that place," he said. "I'm just curious about it, that's all."

That earned him a sharp look, and a rather pointed, "It's a place you go to enjoy yourself. What more do you need to know?"

"Well, what else can you tell me?"

Reinhart continued to watch him carefully for a moment or two, then he leaned forward. "Tell you what, Harvey," he said softly, so softly in fact that Harvey had to lean forward himself to catch his words. "We have that thing now, right? The, um, what do they call it? The attorney-client privilege?"

"Uh, yeah," Harvey replied. "That's right." 

"Which means that as my attorney, whatever I tell you is strictly confidential?" 

Harvey nodded, suddenly feeling nervous. He hated being made to feel nervous and he resented it utterly.

"Okay then," Reinhart conceded, "what is it you want to know?"

"The men there," Harvey said quietly, "some of them were guests, like you and me, right? But some of them, were they prostitutes?"

"Escorts," Reinhart corrected him. " All perfectly legal and above board."

"Still illegal if they're being paid for sex," Harvey said, "whatever you choose to call them."

"Look, did you actually see any fees change hands while you were there?" Reinhart snapped. 

"You know I didn't, but that doesn't mean to say -" 

"So quit worrying," Reinhart interrupted emphatically. "Look, Harvey, if I'd known you were going to pull all this shit over a few services supplied, I wouldn't have taken you there in the first place. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah," Harvey confessed after a moment's hesitation. And up to a point it was true, at least until he'd recognized Mike anyway. After that, things had become more complicated. 

Now he watched as the man opposite him pulled out his wallet and opened it, fishing inside to remove a gold card. 

"Look," Reinhart remarked as he held up the card for Harvey's inspection. "I'm back in Miami for the next couple of weeks, but this is a guest pass I had made up for you in case you wanted to use it in the meantime. Are you telling me you don't want it now?"

Thoughts of _Mike_ flashed once more into Harvey's mind, urgent and compelling. "No, no," he said firmly. "I do want it. Thanks." He held out his hand and after giving him another hard look, Reinhart passed it over. 

"Look, use it or don't use it," he said, "whatever. I'm not bothered about it either way, but Harvey, please, no more hassle about this, okay?"

Just then, Donna tapped on the glass door to his office and after Harvey had waved her in and she'd passed him some documents, she then turned to converse flirtatiously with Reinhart. Harvey quickly stuffed the card out of sight away in his pants pocket, although he could almost feel it burning a hole against his thigh there for the rest of the afternoon, even after Reinhart had said his goodbyes and left. He could barely concentrate on his work as the man's words began to sink in, for he could dress it up any way he liked, 'escorts' or not, if they were being paid to take part in sexual activities then it was nothing more than prostitution.

Shit.

Of course, if it came to it, and should any investigation into his actions ever be made, Harvey knew he could always maintain plausible deniability, although he also knew that if his name were ever linked to such an offence as patronizing prostitutes, it could be very damaging to his reputation, especially considering his elevated position within the firm. Therefore, he knew exactly what he should do with that card in his pocket – destroy the damn thing and never go near that house again.

At home, however, he poured himself a glass of scotch, sat down on the couch then pulled out the card to examine it once more. It was gold plastic, credit card sized, and embossed with the logo of one of Reinhart's chains of casinos – a completely innocuous looking object at first glance. On the reverse though, there was a website address and Harvey quickly realized that if he were to use this card to access it then he could safely kiss any further chances of pleading plausible deniability goodbye.

He sat for a moment, tapping the edge of the card with his fingers.

Suddenly his mind was made up and he dragged his laptop towards him across the coffee table – his personal laptop, obviously, not his work one – and keyed in the URL. 

After a few seconds he was prompted for a password, and after a moment's thought he keyed in the six digit membership number on the front of the card. The website suddenly burst into life, and Harvey, with a few deft flicks of his fingers and thumbs, started to negotiate the various menus. Skimming through the text, Harvey noted that besides the description of the so-called 'gangbang' experiences, which he realized he'd already witnessed for himself, and amongst a range of other services available, Gold Card members were also invited to sample the 'personally supplied delights of the individual treatment rooms', and although it didn't actually say what these were, he thought he could probably guess.

Multiple links led him to other pages, lists of endorsements and recommendations, all of them anonymous of course, and then there were the galleries, which Harvey trawled patiently through until finally he found what he was looking for.

An image of Mike.

It was definitely him, Harvey confirmed, having tilted his head first this way then that, and after enlarging the picture so that it was nothing but a pixelated mess, and okay, so it was a grainy picture to begin with, but it was definitely him. He looked thinner and paler than he had the day that Harvey had met him at the associate interviews at the Chilton. He'd been slender then, yes, in that youthful, gangly way that Harvey had found so attractive, but he'd looked healthy. The boy he'd seen in the club the other night, hadn't looked particularly healthy at all.

What the hell had happened to him since their meeting six months ago and now?

Harvey could attempt to paint his own picture, of course. The kid had been desperate for money, that much he remembered. Well, duh – why else would anyone have been carrying a briefcase stuffed to the brim with pot? But then there'd been the way his eyes had lit up when Harvey had mentioned the $25,000 signing fee. That friend he'd mentioned too, the one who'd set up the drug deal – Harvey couldn't quite remember his name – he'd sounded like a total loser, but even if Mike _had_ been hanging around with people like that, for a boy with such obvious talent to sink so low, and so damn quickly too – something must have happened. Something bad.

Harvey sighed, stood up to refill his glass then sat back down and hunched over his laptop again.

Further perusal of the website showed him links to a number of sample videos, apparently provided to show clients – _clients,_ well there was a giveaway term if ever there was one – an idea of what they could expect on availing themselves of these services, and Harvey started to watch them, scanning each one for Mike. The kid wasn't in any of them, however, but eventually Harvey, unable to resist the lure of the images he was viewing, sank back against the cool leather of his couch and began to fumble with his zipper. Before long, and with one of the video trailers playing endlessly on a loop in front of him, he was soon stroking himself hard, shifting his hips and thrusting up into his own fist as he came, and as he did so, there was only one name on his lips.

_Mike._


	3. Chapter 3

When Harvey awoke the following morning, he still had thoughts of Mike Ross running through his mind. He felt somewhat ashamed of what he'd done the night before though – not the jacking off to pornography of course, which was something he'd always very much enjoyed – but the fact that he'd done it while thinking about Mike. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like that either, he reminded himself. A few days after the interviews at the Chilton Hotel and unable to get thoughts of that exciting young man out of his head, he'd picked up a young guy in a bar, taken him home and fucked him senseless in this very bed, and for most of that time he'd been thinking solely of Mike. Trying to rationalize it later, he'd wondered why the kid had made such a deep impression on him that he'd felt the need to go out and do something like that. 

Of course, deep down he'd already known. The clear blue eyes and youthful grin had been a bonus, but what had really attracted him to Mike had been his mind. He'd marveled at that amazing memory, that ability Mike had gone on to so ably demonstrate, of being able read something, understand it and then never forget it. How Harvey had envied that skill and admired it. And what a damn shame he'd thought it was that the kid had been prepared to throw his life away like that.

"Do you remember that kid at the Chilton Hotel?" he'd said to Donna a couple of weeks later. "The one who bluffed his way into the interviews by pretending to be Rick Sorkin?"

"Of course," she'd replied immediately. "Why?"

The real Rick had arrived a few minutes later, apologizing profusely and begging to still be given an interview slot. Donna had moved him to the end of the list and by the time Harvey had rejected each and every candidate before him, he'd ended up being given the job by default, seeing as he was the only one left. In the weeks that followed he'd not been useless exactly, but Harvey had found him intensely irritating. He'd known that he'd been comparing him to Mike even though he'd also known it was a wholly unfair comparison. Rick could never have lived up to that bright young man in the cheap polyester suit, despite his _magna cum laude_ Harvard degree. He doubted that Rick had even heard of the Sarbanes-Oxley Act, never mind been able to quote all eleven sections at him verbatim. Mike had done it and Mike hadn't even been to law school. 

"Did you take any contact details from him?" Harvey had wanted to know. He'd tried to feign indifference when she'd said she hadn't, but Donna had known better. 

"So that's why you didn't give him up to the police," she'd said with a meaningful smile. "Did you get his real name? I could see if I could find him for you?"

Deciding it was pointless, he'd shaken his head and in the weeks that followed he'd eventually managed to push the interview to the back of his mind. This time around it was different though, because if the kid had been in trouble then, he was in a far worse situation now, so the first thing Harvey decided was that he would have to pay a return visit to the club fairly soon and see if he could talk to Mike. The second was to have a closer look at Thomas Reinhart's business accounts.

Harvey wasn't generally naïve as a rule, but after spending a day or so closely digging over the accounts, he was starting to think that maybe Reinhart had made fools of them all, Jessica included. Of course, they were all now being paid hefty bonuses to represent Reinhart and his various business interests, but Harvey was starting to find that there were some things in the accounts that just didn't seem to add up. For example, it hadn't taken him long to realize that Reinhart's international team of highly skilled accountants had subtly obfuscated some of the sources of his riches by using financial systems which didn't identify or track sources or destinations for those funds. Whether this was intentional or not, Harvey wasn't yet sure, although he'd seen enough cases of money laundering to know that it warranted further investigation.

Leaning back in his chair, his pen gripped between his teeth as he gazed out at the imposing New York skyline, he allowed his mind to formulate a theory. Just supposing for a minute that Reinhart was as heavily involved in illegal prostitution as he was in legal gambling but was using his other businesses to hide the fact and launder the funds. Was that a possibility at all? After all, what was it he'd said? Something about Harvey's preference for either men or women being his _business_? Had that been a hint? Of course there was always the strong possibility that Reinhart, too, had merely been a guest in that house, but somehow Harvey didn't think so, especially as he'd been so proud in showing off the place. Did that mean he was the owner? And could it possibly be that the casinos, the hotel chains, even the supermarkets and bookstores, were all just supplementary to the main source of his income, prostitution, as well as a veil to hide behind? 

Okay, so it seemed far-fetched, and Harvey would be the first one to admit this, but at the same time it wasn't as if he didn't know that the sex industry was big business either. There'd been a report in the New York Times only last month which had detailed the huge size, structure and estimated worth of the sex economy on the east coast alone. It ran to millions of dollars, and the report had estimated that the sex industry made more money in some states than the drug and gun trades put together. Therefore, a hugely lucrative business indeed.

Far-fetched or not, there was one thing that Harvey knew for certain: he needed to get back to that club, and it was with a sense of purpose, not to mention trepidation, that he arrived at the house on Park Avenue the following Sunday night. He showed his gold card on entry and was welcomed by a man who he'd seen there last time but hadn't spoken to and who, thankfully, didn't seem to want to engage him in conversation this time either. His coat was taken and he was offered a drink which he politely declined, and then he entered the room where he knew he'd find the elevator and headed straight down to the basement. The music down there seemed even louder than it had before, although perhaps it was only that he was making himself more aware of his surroundings this time, and glad to find the changing area empty, he stored away his clothes, fastened a robe firmly around his waist and donned a pair of the soft suede shoes. 

Last time he'd been here his eyes had been wide as he'd taken in the sights, but this time they were narrowed as he closely examined everything in his path. The first few rooms seemed to be functioning in exactly the same way as they had before, with groups of men taking their turns with each room's occupants and none too gently either. He liked rough sex as much as the next man, but from what he could see, the sex here was fierce and brutal and looked more like a form of abuse to Harvey than anything else. Quickly he moved on, anxious to access the large room which housed the cubicles.

Several times as he made his tour, he had to resist the urge to reach down and adjust his hardening erection. He'd be the first to admit that he'd always enjoyed the visual stimulation that pornography afforded him, and to have it being performed live like this, and knowing he could just step up and grab a piece of the action any time he chose was very arousing indeed, especially as now that he was looking more closely than he had on his first visit he was able to see that there were many more cubicles than he'd realized – easily twenty or thirty at least. He went slowly from each one to the next, trying to be subtle but looking closely at the men in each one in his search for Mike. Some men, he noticed, seemed to quite like being watched, while others glared at Harvey or even told him to fuck off, while others didn't seem to notice him or even care. By the time he'd scanned the whole room, however, it became clear that Mike wasn't there, and Harvey found himself wondering if maybe the boy wasn't working there tonight. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed although he suddenly felt a lot less tense, so much so that he was almost snared by a lithe young man with a shock of dark hair and olive skin, who beckoned him towards one of the now empty booths. In the end though and sorely tempted as he was, he just smiled and shook his head instead.

Wandering back along the passageway, he decided to take one last look in the rooms. He watched from the doorway of one for a while as a slender blond boy was roughly manhandled by two men, who slapped his face and yanked his head back by the hair before taking it in turns to see which one of them could stuff their cocks the furthest down his throat. The sight didn't do much for Harvey if he were being entirely honest, and besides, it wasn't really his thing, this sharing with other guys. He much preferred to have the full attention of just one partner to himself, a fact about himself which he'd always put down to his own selfish nature. He'd tried threesomes of course, with both men and with women, and a mixture of both, and he'd attended a few of those parties where no one seemed to have any inhibitions whatsoever. He remembered one such party during his college days, where he'd fucked another boy across the arm of the couch in the lounge in the presence of a group of other people, some of whom had been watching while others had been engaged in various activities of their own. On the verge of orgasm himself, he'd caught the eye of a man whose girlfriend had been bouncing noisily up and down on his dick, and the look that had passed between them had been enough to send the young Harvey hurtling over the edge.

The memory stirred his desire and again he considered going back to the cubicles, possibly to that dark-haired young man, but the fresher memories of Mike's glassy eyes and pale, slender body were enough to put him off. Deciding it was maybe time to leave, he travelled back along the passageway until he came to the last room on his way to the exit. It was a large room which contained a pair of slings – huge structures with four poles supporting narrow, black leather hammock-like beds suspended by chains, and from the doorway, Harvey could see that there were men lying in these slings. One, with tanned skin and a closely shaven head, was face down with his toes trailing on the floor and an army of men around him, whilst the other – Harvey couldn't see his face – was on his back with his legs hoisted high and spread wide, his ankles and wrists tethered to the chains by leather cuffs. Around him were clustered a number of other men, all trying to grab their own piece of meat.

Moving closer for one last look, it was then that Harvey saw Mike had been there all along.

Hovering on the fringe of the group, Harvey tried not to look at the guy who was sweating and grunting as he pounded himself between Mike's open thighs and he tried, instead, to get a good look at the boy's face. Again he was struck by the marked difference between the boy he'd met that day at the hotel and the one who was lying here. That boy had been animated, vital and alive, and so incredibly attractive, despite his skinny tie and ill-fitting suit. 

The boy who lay before him, confined in the sling, might just as well have been dead. 

His eyes were closed, face pale and sweaty, and his brow was creased as if he were in pain which he probably was, Harvey thought, considering how roughly he was being fucked, and while the men around him whooped and the sling supports creaked and groaned as he was rocked back hard by each vicious thrust, Mike himself did not make a sound.

"Hey, hey, kid," one of the men clustered around him grunted. "Open your mouth." At first he didn't respond, but after a slap to his face, Mike obediently parted his lips and accepted what the man had to offer, sucking weakly, but even with his limited view at the edge of the pack, Harvey could see that the boy had had enough. 

In the other sling on the other side of the room, the boy with the shaven head, having been flipped onto his back, was groaning and panting whilst pumping himself energetically in his fist. He kept begging to be fucked harder, and to Harvey his enjoyment didn't at all seem to be an act. For Mike it was different. He continued to lay there, silent and listless, responding only whenever he was slapped. Maybe he was trying to pretend that none of it was happening, or maybe it was just that he was off his face on drugs, Harvey didn't know, but the sight of Mike lying there on his back and being relentlessly fucked by an endless queue of eager partners was extremely painful for him to watch. Of course the men around him really didn't seem to care whether the boy in the sling was enjoying himself or not. That clearly was of no importance to them. One man, in fact, seemed to really get off on the idea that his partner was silent and unresponsive. He wrapped his arms tightly around Mike's thighs in order to drive his thrusts in even harder, and then just as soon as he was sated and stripping off his condom, another man quickly jostled himself into position and immediately filled his place. 

If the club had a designated closing time then Harvey wasn't aware of it, but he was thankful when eventually the room began to empty until in the end he was the only one left. He stood against the wall for a few moments, watching the boy who lay silently with his eyes still closed and with his chest rising and falling slowly as the pulse flickered on his neck.

Silently, Harvey stepped over the used condoms which littered the floor all around them and then he approached the spent figure in the sling. He waited a few moments more before clearing his throat.

"Mike?"

At first there was no answer and Harvey wondered if he were asleep, or had even passed out, but then slowly, fearfully, the young man opened his eyes.

"Mike?" Harvey said again, moving closer. He felt a sudden urge to reach out, to wipe the sweat from the boy's forehead and smooth back his hair, but instead he kept his arms rigidly by his sides. "It is Mike, right?" he asked, his tone softer now, as if he were afraid he would hurt him if his voice were too loud. "Mike Ross? Do you … do you remember me at all?"

Briefly, the kid's eyelids fluttered and then he turned his head and looked up to meet Harvey's gaze, the blue of his eyes much duller than Harvey remembered.

"Harvey," he mumbled at last as his tired eyes slid away. "Harvey Specter."

And then he started to cry.


	4. Chapter 4

Harvey didn't like to brood over his problems. In fact, he didn't tend to even have problems as a rule. If there was a situation, he closed it and if for some reason he couldn't close it, which admittedly was rare, he cut his losses and quickly moved on. This time, however, he couldn't close the situation and he certainly couldn't move on.

It had been several days since he'd visited the club and he'd hardly thought about anything else since. It wasn't just what he'd seen in that sling room either, although that had been bad enough, or that Mike had started crying when Harvey had made himself known to him. No, the moment that was stuck in his mind was that when he'd bent over Mike and tried to unfasten the restraints, the boy had started to scream. 

"No, no," he'd cried, twisting helplessly in the sling. "Get away from me, get away!"

"Mike, it's okay," Harvey had tried to reassure him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy had continued to scream, however, and then events had been quickly taken out of Harvey's hands when three members of staff had quickly swooped into the room. 

"Sorry about this, sir," one of the men had apologized over Mike's noise as the other two had released his restraints and dragged him roughly from the sling to the floor. "We'll make sure he's properly disciplined." And then they'd hauled him off, kicking and screaming all the way. Harvey had tried to follow in protest but had been told politely but firmly that the situation would be dealt with, and that the club was closing and it was time to go home. 

By the time he'd reached home, some of the shock he'd experienced had worn off but he'd still felt the need to drink several measures of neat scotch in order to calm himself down. The crying he could have coped with but he certainly hadn't expected Mike to start screaming like that. And what the hell had those men meant by _disciplined_ anyway? Did that mean they were going to lock Mike up? Beat him within an inch of his life?

The thing was, what was he going to do about it?

A solution of sorts came to him several days later when he received a phone call from Thomas Reinhart. Their conversation was firmly rooted in business for the majority of the call but towards the end of it, Reinhart steered the topic towards more personal matters.

"I hope you've been taking full advantage of that gold card I gave you, Harvey," he said with a husky laugh. "You ready for a private session yet?"

"Er, yeah, I think that's something I might be interested in," Harvey replied. "So … how do I book in for something like that?"

After work, he showered and changed into sweats, and then he sat down on the couch with his laptop and membership card to once more access the club's website. After keying in the additional password Reinhart had given him, he located a menu listing a series of bookable options accompanied by the names of available escorts, and he flicked through them quickly, looking for Mike. It took him a while to find him though – the escorts were all listed in alphabetical order and he'd flicked straight to the M's – but when he eventually found what he was looking for, _James_ was described as white, 1.82m tall, of slender build and with light brown hair and blue eyes. There were two image links beneath the description, and clicking on the first one revealed quite an arty shot, a black and white close-up of Mike's face, eyes closed. He looked quite beautiful in this picture, Harvey thought, peaceful and innocent somehow. The second photo was completely different: a full color, full body shot of him lying down on a bed. He was naked and looked completely vulnerable, with his knees drawn up, legs spread wide and wrists securely tethered behind his head. 

_James is best suited to clients who prefer to be in control,_ the caption beneath the pictures said. _Usually, James will be restrained and/or heavily sedated as per your instructions prior to your arrival, making him the ideal partner for the fulfilment of your drug-assisted rape fantasy event. Somnophiliacs may also be catered for upon request, although extra fees will apply. If required, James can be dressed according to your preference, which can easily be indicated on the booking form during checkout._

The cost, Harvey noted, was five thousand dollars an hour.

It was at this point that Harvey stood up and reached for his trusty scotch. Jesus Christ, what the hell was going on here and what was it with all the drugs? Was this the reason Mike had been so lifeless and unresponsive that night in the sling room of the club? He'd wondered at the time if the kid had maybe been high, especially after the way he'd freaked out, but it hadn't crossed his mind that he might have been deliberately sedated for the pleasure of the guests. And somnophiliacs, what the hell were they into? Sex with dead people? No, no, that was necrophilia. Sex with sleeping people then, or rather, people who were heavily drugged? So was Mike even a willing participant in all of this then? Or was that why he needed to be sedated in the first place?

What the actual fuck was going on?

It was another twenty minutes before Harvey felt able to return to the website. He paced up and down his living room, shaking his head and swigging back his drink as he tried his best to make sense of what he'd seen and read. Finally, he sat back down, pulled his laptop towards him again and reread the description, just to make sure he'd understood everything correctly, and then he returned to the first picture, the black and white one, and he studied Mike's face much more carefully this time. Was the boy just posing for the photo and obligingly closing his eyes, or was he asleep or even unconscious? After what Harvey had just read on the site, who the hell knew? 

After a few deep breaths and few further clicks, Harvey eventually found himself at the checkout page with his credit card in his hand. 

Really? He was going to do this? Really?

And then suddenly it was too late.

Resuming his pacing, Harvey considered how deeply involved he was getting. Fuck, they'd even got his credit card number on file now, and if any of this ever came out, what the hell would people think? And he was sure Jessica would kill him if she knew what he was up to, regardless of what she'd said about keeping Reinhart sweet.

As the week wore on, Harvey became more and more uncertain that he was doing the right thing. Nevertheless, the following Friday he made sure to clear his work schedule from the afternoon onwards, and then he went home, showered and changed but still made sure he arrived at the club in plenty of time for his appointment. He'd shown his card to the young man at the door and then instead of taking the elevator he'd used before, this time he was shown to an entirely different part of the house.

"Let us know if you need anything else," the softly spoken young man said to him as he opened the door to the private room. "However, we do like to pride ourselves in knowing we've taken care of everything."

After thanking him and entering the room, Harvey quietly closed the door behind him and took in the scene. No sling this time, just a bed, and there was Mike, lying in the center of it, his face turned away to the wall and his ankles and wrists tightly tethered by straps so that his arms and legs were spread out wide. Although Harvey had requested _'dressed'_ from the available options at the checkout page on the site, he could see that the boy was still practically naked, dressed in just a black mesh thong with a narrow elastic waistband which fitted closely over his hips. The room was softly lit, and from where he stood, he couldn't tell if the boy's eyes were open or closed, although he noted since he'd first entered the room that his breathing had quickened and his fingers had clenched into fists. 

"Mike," he said softly. "I don't want you to start shouting at me this time, okay? It's me again, Harvey Specter. I haven't come here to hurt you in any way, I swear. I just want to talk to you." 

He waited, wondering now if he'd done the right thing in requesting _'no sedation'_ at checkout, because the moment he'd started speaking, every muscle in Mike's whole body seemed to have completely tensed up. For the moment, Harvey stayed where he was, a few feet away at the foot of the bed. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to start screaming again.

"I want you to trust me," he said quietly. "I swear I won't touch you. I swear it on my life. I really do just want to talk."

Again he waited and when the boy's rapid breathing started to slow down a little, he moved closer.

"Mike?"

Mike still lay silently so Harvey slowly moved around the bed until finally he was in the boy's line of sight. Mike stared up at him warily. There was fear in his eyes, but also a spark of defiance. Harvey was glad to see it. He hoped it meant that the gutsy kid he'd met in the Chilton Hotel hadn't been completely lost. 

"Can I talk to you?" he asked gently.

"Rich men like you come here all the time," Mike said, his voice surprisingly clear, "and they never just want to talk."

"Look," Harvey said. "I know you must be wondering what the hell is going on, but I've seen you here a couple of times now and I – well, I just wanted to know what someone like you was doing here, in a place like this."

"I could ask you the same thing," Mike shot back, "although I guess your motives are a lot more obvious than mine."

Harvey guessed he'd asked for that just by being here, but he decided it was all too complicated to explain right now. After all, to some extent he knew that what Mike had said was right. "Look, you'll just have to trust that I'm telling you the truth when I say I just want to talk," he said. "And before I go any further, I want to know how you'll react if I take you out of those restraints."

"You think I might be dangerous?"

"No, I don't think you'll be dangerous, but I wouldn't want you to do anything that would get either of us into trouble." 

"I won't do anything stupid," Mike said.

Harvey leaned over him then and unfastened first one wrist and then the other before reaching down to release his ankles. Mike pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his stiff limbs and chafed skin before pulling his knees up towards him and wrapping his arms around them protectively.

"Better?" Harvey asked him and Mike warily nodded.

"You said, someone like me?" he said as he watched Harvey drag over a chair and sit down.

"What?"

"You said, how come someone like _me_ ended up in a place like this. What did you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Mike," Harvey replied. "You showed me what a bright kid you are that day at the hotel. Whatever's happened to you since then, and I'm assuming it's something bad, surely you didn't have to resort to something like – " He held up his hands, indicating the room. "Like this."

Mike let out a low laugh, a cold, mirthless sound. "Yeah," he said bitterly. "A bright kid with no college degree, no prospects and a mass of debts. I'd say I'm fairly typical of the kind of guys who end up here from what I've seen."

"What debts?"

"What?"

"You said you had a mass of debts. What do you owe money for? Drugs?"

"Of course not."

Harvey raised his eyebrows at this response, feeling it had been a reasonable assumption. After all, when he'd first met Mike, he _had_ been carrying a briefcase full of pot. 

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Mike said sulkily, "but I needed money, a _lot_ of money …" His voice petered out and he looked away. "Believe me, I had no other choice."

"There's always another choice," Harvey said.

"Yeah, right. "

"Of course there is. You –"

"There isn't," Mike interrupted angrily. "You wanna know why you make me laugh? Because guys like you, with your designer clothes and your five hundred dollar haircuts, you have no fucking idea what the hell you're talking about when it comes to needing money and I don't know why you're even pretending to care. Look, let's just get it over with already. How do you want me? Face down or are you gonna fuck me on my back?"

"I told you, I came here to talk," Harvey snapped back, his own anger rising.

"And you expect me to believe you? You're just like all the rest of them. Aren't you worried about wasting your cash?"

Harvey immediately shook his head. "I'm not like that, Mike," he promised. "I told you – " 

"Liar!" Mike suddenly shouted, making Harvey flinch. "You think I don't know it was you that night in the cubicle, huh? When you knocked me down to the floor? How about I finish that blow job for you now? It's not like you don't know I give good head."

"Jesus, Mike," Harvey gasped, genuinely shocked. "I didn't even know that was you at first. Why the hell do you think I left?"

"How the hell do I know," Mike yelled, "but I know I've had enough of your shit. If you're not gonna go ahead and fuck me, I think you should get the hell out."

"Mike –"

"Didn't you hear what I said? Either get on with it and fuck me or get out!"

Suddenly, Harvey recoiled as the boy on the bed violently spat at him, hitting him with the full force of it in the face. Gasping in disgust, he hastily stood up, pushing his chair back and using his sleeve to wipe away the saliva that was now dripping from his cheek. 

"Have a nice life, Mike," he said tonelessly to the boy who was now cowering from him on the bed, and then he turned and walked out, firmly pulling the door shut behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Harvey awoke feeling like he hadn't slept at all, although in reality he'd probably had four to five hours all told. He stumbled, bleary-eyed, to the kitchen, made coffee and then carried it outside onto the deck. Leaning on the rail, he tipped his face up to the morning sunshine, letting the light play across his eyelids and feeling its pleasant tingle warming up his skin. 

His anger over the incident with Mike at the club had long since evaporated but he was still struggling to come to terms with a deep sense of frustration. With a brain like his, the kid could have done anything, been anyone, but look at what he was doing with his life instead – allowing his body to be abused like that. It just didn't make any sense.

He had thought about going back to the club and trying to see Mike again, but in the end he decided against it. Even when Reinhart jetted back into town and invited Harvey to accompany him there for a night, Harvey had politely declined. Instead, as always when something was bothering him, he threw himself into his work, so much so that after a week and half of late nights at the office, Jessica felt she had to ask him if everything was okay.

"Your billables will outstrip even Louis's this month if you keep this work rate up," she remarked when she came across him still at his desk after seven one Friday evening. "What's wrong, Harvey?"

"Why does there have to be anything wrong?" he asked, glancing up from the papers on his desk.

"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "It's just that the last time I remember you working this hard, you were trying to forget to be lonely."

She was, of course, referring to his one and only attempt at maintaining a serious long term relationship. Harvey had pretended not to care when Scott had left him for the chance of his name on the door at a firm in England, but Jessica had known better.

"It's nothing like that," he told her. "I've just had a lot on lately and I wanted to clear up a few things before I go home, that's all."

"You look like you could do with a good night's sleep though," she insisted.

He knew she was right, and to be fair he had planned for a quiet weekend. However, as he prepared to settle down at home later that night with a beer and a movie, his cell phone began to buzz insistently on the coffee table, and lifting it up and glancing at the display, he saw that the caller was Thomas Reinhart. He at first considered ignoring the call, but then he changed his mind and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Harvey? Oh, thank God," Reinhart breathed in his ear. "I need you to come and represent me. I've been arrested."

"What? What the hell for?"

"Possession."

Harvey's mind swiftly entered lawyer mode. "What and how much?" he immediately wanted to know.

"What?"

"What substance have they accused you of carrying, and how much?"

"Uh, cocaine. I – I don't know, not much. Enough for a few lines, that's all."

"Okay, listen to me. You say nothing to the cops until I get there. You can give them basic details like your name and address but absolutely nothing else, is that clear? Now where are they holding you?"

As he drove to the address he'd been given, Harvey began to feel more and more apprehensive, particularly when the station house where Reinhart was being held proved to be fairly close in proximity to the house on Park Avenue. Suddenly certain that there would some kind of connection between the club and Reinhart's arrest, he soon discovered that he was right when he was shown to the small interview room where Reinhart was being kept. 

"You took your time," the man said, despite the fact that it had actually only taken Harvey thirty minutes to get there. "Now, how long will it take you to get me out of here?"

"Well, that depends on a number of things," Harvey replied. It was taking all of his patience and concentration to remain calm, and he found himself yet again wondering how he ever could have thought that he liked this man. "You didn't give them your statement yet?"

"No, of course not. You told me not to. I said I was waiting for you and didn't want to answer any questions until you got here."

"Good," Harvey said nodding, and then came the killer question. "Where were you when you were arrested?"

At this, Reinhart gave him a pointed look and Harvey, his fears confirmed, felt his pulse taken a giant leap. 

"You were at the club?" he asked, lowering his voice, and Reinhart nodded. 

"I don't know how the hell it happened," he said, "but one minute things were going on as normal, and the next the place was swarming with cops. They rounded up everyone and brought them here."

"Everyone? Including the … " For some reason Harvey hadn't wanted to use the term _prostitutes._ Christ, how he wished he'd never set foot in that place. In fact, he wished he'd never got involved with Thomas fucking Reinhart or his business enterprises at all.

"You mean the escorts?"

Harvey nodded. 

"Yeah," Reinhart confirmed, "but to be honest, I wouldn't worry about them. It was the drugs the cops seemed more interested in."

After that it took Harvey precisely seventeen minutes before Reinhart's belongings were being returned to him and they were swiftly exiting the building side by side.

"Thanks, Harvey," Reinhart said, although there didn't seem to be a scrap of real gratitude in his voice. "I knew you'd get me out." He turned away then, issuing orders into his cell phone and after he hung up his call, he turned back to Harvey. "Hey man, why are you looking so worried?" he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You were terrific in there. You tied them up in knots so quickly they had no choice but to drop the charges."

"It wasn't that difficult," Harvey said, "not after the mess they made of the arrest procedure, but look, there's something else I need you to ask you about. For some reason I get the feeling you're not telling me everything."

Reinhart looked at him sharply then. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Well, being caught with a few grams of coke, or even with a prostitute in your bed isn't going to cause you too much trouble," Harvey replied, "but if this police raid is going to eventually lead to you being accused of falsifying business records and money laundering, it's a whole different ball game and if that's the case my firm's involved, so I'd rather know about it now."

Reinhart narrowed his eyes. "Just what the hell are you insinuating, Harvey?" he said.

"Nothing," Harvey replied. "I'm just giving you the opportunity to come clean, that's all. I feel like I've been unwittingly dragged into all of this and I'd just like to know what it is I'm up against."

"Now just hang on a minute, Harvey," Reinhart said coldly. "Let's get one thing straight. I certainly didn't drag you anywhere. I didn't even twist your arm at any point and I definitely didn't force you to use your personal credit card to pay for any additional private services. You did that all by yourself."

"Even so," Harvey said, "I think maybe we need to schedule a meeting to discuss any possible ramifications of tonight's events, and soon."

To his surprise, Reinhart seemed to agree. "Maybe we should go someplace and talk now?" he suggested. 

"Not now," Harvey said, looking at his watch. "It's late, and anyway there's something important I need to do first."

"Okay, well I'll call you sometime tomorrow then."

"Okay."

Just then, Reinhart's chauffeured limousine pulled up to the curb beside them and Harvey bade him good night. As soon as the car was out of sight, however, he headed straight back inside the station house.

"I need to know if you're holding a Michael Ross here," he said to one of the two officers on duty at the desk.

"Busy night for you," the officer remarked sourly. "You his attorney too?" After a few clicks with his mouse, he consulted his computer screen. "Uh, you're a bit late for this one," he said. "Says here he's already given a statement and has been processed. He's out back waiting for his ride to Central Booking."

"On what charge?"

The officer looked at his computer screen again. "Uh, misdemeanor class B, prostitution," he said.

"I still want to see him."

"Take a seat. I'll see what I can do."

Ten annoyingly slow minutes later, Harvey was shown into a small interview room, and a few minutes after that, a barefoot Mike shuffled in with his head down. He was dressed in dirty gray sweats and his wrists were cuffed in front of him.

"Jesus Christ," Harvey said, his lip curling in disgust. "Can we lose those cuffs already? And where are his Goddamned shoes?"

At this point Mike coughed and mumbled something.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I don't have any shoes," he said, this time a little more loudly. 

"Nothing to do with me," the officer said with a shrug. "And the cuffs have to stay on. Sorry. I'll be just outside if you need me." He closed the door behind him and then the two of them were alone.

"Come and sit down," Harvey said. 

Mike watched him warily. "I'm all right here," he said.

Harvey rolled his eyes then indicated the chair opposite. "Surely you're going to let me help you this time?" he said.

After a moment's hesitation, Mike nodded and then reluctantly sat down. 

Less than an hour later and wearing a pair of too-large police issue brogues on his feet, Mike trailed behind Harvey as they made their way out to the gleaming black car parked a little way down the street.

"You know, you were lucky the Deputy Chief owes me," Harvey said. "You could have been facing a lengthy stay in Central Booking right now." 

Mike shrugged. "Still gotta go to court though," he said. 

It was true. Harvey had only managed to get Mike out on a desk appearance ticket, which meant he'd have to appear before a judge early the following week. "I'll probably be able to get you off with just a fine though," he said, using his remote to unlock the doors of his car. "Get in," he ordered. "I'll take you home."

Immediately, Mike shook his head. "I can walk from here, thanks," he said. 

"Still fighting me off?" Harvey observed. "I said get in."

Mike sighed then opened the passenger door and climbed in. "I need to go back to the house," he said as Harvey got in beside him.

"The house? You mean the house on Park Avenue?" Harvey shook his head. "You can't go back there, Mike. It's being closed down, at least while it's under investigation."

Mike glanced across at him quickly. "Well, I guess you'd know," he said bitterly. "Seeing as you're a regular there now."

Harvey hesitated. He knew how it all must look from the kid's point of view. "Look," he said, "I'm not the man you think I am." 

"No, because it's not like you pay for sex with prostitutes or anything, is it?" Mike said accusingly. "In fact, seeing as I've probably lost my job now, how about it? I can finish off that blow job for you right now for fifty bucks."

He reached out as if stretching for Harvey's lap and leaned towards him but Harvey slapped his hand away. 

"Stop it, Mike," he said sternly. 

"Oh sorry," Mike said bitterly. "You're right. Having a prostitute suck you off right outside a station house probably isn't the best idea, is it?"

He turned his face away but in the yellow glow of the street lights, Harvey could see that he was suddenly close to tears. 

"Look, it's gonna be okay, Mike," he offered, but Mike just shook his head.

"How can it even be remotely okay?" he snapped, helplessness making his temper flare. "My job's gone and I've nowhere else to go. I don't even have a pair of shoes that fit me properly, so you tell me, just how the fuck is it gonna be okay?"

 _Yeah, a job you're well out of,_ Harvey wanted to snap right back, but he managed to keep his mouth shut, particularly as he was starting to realize Mike's situation was even worse than he'd first thought. "What are you saying?" he questioned. "Are you telling me you actually lived there in that house? You didn't ever go home?"

"I don't have a home," Mike sniffed, scrubbing his sleeve over his face. "Not any more."

Seeing the tears were flowing freely now, Harvey reached across to the car's storage compartment in front of Mike, hoping he might find a travel pack of Kleenex or something he could offer him, but he immediately withdrew his hand as Mike suddenly flinched away from him, pressing himself against the passenger door. 

"Jesus, kid," he said. "I'm not gonna touch you. I just want to get something." He leaned over him again, more slowly this time, his fingers groping in the dark before closing gratefully around a small pack of tissues. "Here," he said, holding them out. "Wipe your face."

Mike accepted the gift and then they sat for a while in a silence punctuated only by him noisily blowing his nose. Harvey was confused. One minute Mike had been offering him a blow job, the next he'd been cringing away from him, as if he was terrified of being hurt. The word _disciplined_ floated back into Harvey's mind. Had Mike thought Harvey had been about to 'discipline' him then, the way the staff at the club had promised him they would? 

Jesus, just what the hell had been going on in that house?

"Don't you have anywhere else you can go?" he asked eventually. "Your parents maybe? Friends?"

Mike shook his head. "There's no one else," he said, still sniffing. "Except my grandmother but she's in a nursing home."

Harvey eyes flicked over to the car's dashboard clock. "Well, we can't just go rocking up to a nursing home at nearly two in the morning, Mike," he said. "There must be somewhere else you can go."

"There isn't," Mike said stubbornly. 

Harvey ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "All right, well look, you can come back to my place if you want," he said. "I can – " He stopped abruptly then when he noticed Mike was rolling his eyes. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Mike said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's just clever, that's all. You're acting like you're all charitable, offering me a bed for the night but that way you get to take me home and fuck me for free instead of having to pay for it. Nice move, Harvey. Very good."

"What?" Harvey said, appalled. "You think that _that_ is what this is about? You think the reason I'm offering to help you out is a trade-off for sex?"

"Well, isn't it?" 

"No, absolutely not." Harvey then sighed heavily. "Look at me," he said, waiting for Mike to reluctantly make eye contact with him before carrying on. "Look, kid, I totally understand why you think I'm gonna be like all those other men who’ve been abusing you up at that house, but you'll just have to trust me when I say I'm not, okay? Because basically, you've got two choices here. You can either keep on running your mouth off like that, in which case you might as well get out now and start walking, or you can just shut up and accept the help that's being offered. Now which is it to be, because it's been a long night so far, and to be honest I really don't give that much of a shit either way."

Mike opened his mouth quickly to reply, perhaps to ask if Harvey genuinely didn't give a shit about him then why was he even bothering to help him out at all, but then his eyes flicked away from Harvey to the dimly lit deserted road ahead of them, and then he closed his mouth and didn't say another word as Harvey started up the engine and drove them off into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Harvey lay in bed listening to the silence, still unsure whether he'd actually heard anything or not. It had been late when he'd arrived home with a sullen Mike in tow and as he'd been exhausted after the evening's events, he'd more or less gone straight to sleep, but glancing at the glow of his bedside clock in the darkness, Harvey realized he'd actually only been in bed for a couple of hours. 

"You can take this room," he'd said when he'd shown Mike into his apartment, opening the door to the spacious guest bedroom. "There should be clean towels in the bathroom and if you wait a minute I'll see if I can find you something to sleep in."

Mike, however, had looked over his shoulder at the open living area. "If you don't mind, I'd rather take the couch," he'd said.

Harvey had frowned at him. "Why," he'd said, "when there's a perfectly good bed in here?" 

Mike had hesitated, looking down at the floor. "I'd just rather take the couch," he'd mumbled.

Harvey had scratched his head. "Well, okay," he'd said, shrugging his shoulders. "You can use the main bathroom instead then. It's the second door on the left along there." He'd busied himself then, fetching pillows and blankets, and by the time Mike had emerged from the bathroom, the make-shift bed had been ready. 

"Why are you doing this?" Mike had asked him as Harvey had handed him a folded white t-shirt. "Helping me, I mean?"

Harvey had sighed and run his fingers through his hair. "Look, we'll talk in the morning, Mike, okay?" he'd said. "I really need to get some sleep and so do you by the looks of it."

Now, lying in the darkness, wide awake despite his tiredness, he listened intently, still unsure whether or not he'd actually heard anything, but as soon as he turned over and closed his eyes, there it was again. 

A bang that sounded like a cabinet door being roughly closed, the same as before.

"Mike?" he called out, climbing out of bed and knotting his pajama pants securely as he sought out the source of the noise. Seeing the bathroom light was on, its door ajar, he tapped on it with his knuckles. "Mike, you in there? Are you okay?" When no answer was forthcoming, he pushed the door fully open, entering the bathroom and seeing that Mike, his blue boxers looking decidedly grubby against the glaringly white t-shirt Harvey had given him, was rummaging agitatedly through the contents of the bathroom cabinets.

"Mike?" Harvey said again, moving warily closer. "Are you okay? What are you looking for?"

"I just need something," Mike said, his back still turned as he continued to push bottles and packets one behind the other on the shelves in his search. "There's got to be something here I can take."

"Mike, you won't find any drugs here," Harvey said steadily. "At least not the kind you're probably looking for."

"It's not what you're thinking," Mike replied as he turned to face Harvey. "It's just a bad headache, that's all. It's keeping me awake. I thought I might find some painkillers or something in here."

"And you needed to make so much noise doing it?" Harvey said, although he immediately regretted it when the kid flinched at the harsh tone of his voice. "I've got a drawer for that sort of stuff in the kitchen," he said gruffly. "Come on, I'll show you."

Within minutes he was handing over some pills to Mike, who immediately wolfed them down without waiting for the bottle of water Harvey was holding out to him, crushing them up in his mouth and swallowing them down quickly with little more than a grimace at the bitter taste. 

"You know, I think it'd be a good idea if I took you to see this doctor I know tomorrow," Harvey said as he returned the pack of pills to the drawer. "Get you checked over. Did they provide you with any healthcare in that place?" 

"I'm not going to any doctor," Mike said quickly, ignoring the question as he skirted past Harvey and headed back to the living room. "I gotta go see my grandmother tomorrow, make sure she's okay."

"Okay, whatever," Harvey said with a shrug of his shoulders. "At least try and get some sleep now. I'm going back to bed." He then waited for Mike to lie back down on the couch before switching off the light. 

The next morning, Harvey slept late. He was surprised when he checked his clock to see it was already past eleven, but then he remembered suddenly it was Sunday and that he had an unexpected house guest staying in his living room. He got up, half expecting Mike to have already disappeared, taking an extensive haul of his valuables with him, but when he ventured out into the living room, he saw that the kid was still there, curled up asleep on the couch, his face half hidden within the mound of soft blankets. 

It was some time later when Mike emerged from the living room and followed the aroma of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen and after a brief visit to the bathroom, he pulled himself up onto one of the breakfast bar stools at Harvey's invitation and found himself face to face with a plateful of crispy bacon, fried eggs and toast. 

"I guessed sunny side up," Harvey said. "You take sugar?"

Mike shook his head as Harvey pushed a coffee cup towards him and filled it up.

"Eat up then, before it gets cold. How's your head this morning?"

"Uh, better. Thanks."

Mike picked up his knife and fork, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe where he was and what was happening. "You didn't need to do all this," he said after gulping down his second mouthful.

"It's no problem," Harvey said after a pause. "I wanted to."

The truth was that Harvey knew he wanted to ease his guilt as much as anything. He rarely regretted anything he did in life but he did regret ever going to that house with Thomas Reinhart. Of course, he knew that Reinhart would argue that Mike and others like him were just employees, paid to provide a service just like the workers in any other industry, but Harvey knew he'd never really be able to look at it like that. Alternatively, what if he'd never gone there though? And what if he hadn't seen Mike again? The kid would be in jail right now instead of sitting here eating breakfast and wouldn't that have been worse? And what about last night, when he'd told the Mike he didn't give a shit whether he accepted his help or not? That obviously hadn't been true. Not that he was going to say any of this to Mike, of course. No way.

"We'll need to go over a few details later," he said instead, as he topped up Mike's coffee. "For your arraignment tomorrow. You can stay here again tonight, okay?"

Mike hesitated but then he nodded. After all, Harvey knew very well that he had nowhere else to go. And however much he was looking forward to visiting his grandmother, it wasn't as if she was in a position to take him in again.

It was just after two that afternoon when they set off in a cab for the nursing home. Mike, freshly showered and shaved and wearing a slightly too-big pair of blue jeans, grey marl t-shirt and sneakers that Harvey had lent him, sat quietly for the whole of the ride there, but once they arrived at their destination he bounded up to the reception desk with seemingly new-found energy even while Harvey was still out front paying the driver.

"Edith Ross?" he said after waiting impatiently for the young girl on duty to look up from her magazine. "She's in room 126. I'm Mike, her grandson. Can you please phone down and let her know I'm on my way?" He set off for the wide double doors to the left of the reception area and waited for her to buzz him through, but suddenly she was calling him back.

"Uh, sir," she said, her pony-tail bobbing as her fingers flew over her keyboard. "I can't find anybody of that name on the system. Did you say Edith Ross or Moss? 

"Ross," Mike said again, quickly returning to the desk and leaning over the counter as Harvey approached. "R-O-double S. She was definitely in Room 126 the last time I came."

"I'm really sorry," the girl said after another few moments, frantically clicking with her mouse as she scanned the screen. "Please bear with me. I'm new here and we've also had some problems with the servers this morning. I'm really sorry about this." Her eyes travelled down the screen again. "I really can't find her," she said a few moments later. "Are you sure she didn't transfer to another facility?"

"Why would she do that?" Mike demanded. "Her bills were fully paid up for twelve months in advance. There's no reason why she wouldn't be here."

The girl, red-faced and flustered, glanced anxiously over her shoulder as if she hoped someone might be about to come and help her. "If you'd like to come back later," she said, "the system might be fully up and running then and –" 

"We'll come back later," Harvey told the girl, who smiled a grateful apology at him.

"But I need to see her _now_ ," Mike insisted, his voice rising.

"We'll come back _later_ ," Harvey repeated firmly, this time grasping Mike's sleeve as he started to pull him away. He expected Mike to shrug him off, but then he suddenly saw that the kid was close to tears. "Come on," he said quietly. "Let's go for a drink. We can come back in a little while, okay?"

They found a sports bar nearby and snagged a quiet booth tucked away in the far corner. They ordered two beers, although Mike, at first, seemed content to just sit and stare down into the depths of his glass. 

"So you paid them for a year up front?" Harvey eventually asked when he felt that the silence between them had become too uncomfortable.

Mike looked up. "What?" he said. 

"Back there in the nursing home," Harvey explained. "You told that girl on the desk that you'd paid for twelve months in advance. Twelve months care for your grandmother?"

Immediately dropping his eyes again, Mike shrugged then picked up his beer and took a sip.

"Look, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," Harvey said. "I'm just trying to help." 

"I know. You keep saying."

Harvey narrowed his eyes at that. "You still don't trust me," he said. "I get that, but –"

"Oh, do you?" Mike interrupted. "That's very clever of you."

"I do," Harvey replied, doing his best to ignore the kid's sarcasm. "I know you think it's strange me wanting to help you, but –"

"Well, it is, isn't it?" Mike interrupted again. "I mean, look it from my point of view. One minute you're paying for me to suck your cock and have me tied to a bed, and the next it's like you're the good Samaritan or you want to be my social worker or something. No wonder I'm confused."

Harvey glanced around them, hoping that no-one had heard what Mike had said, but the place was more or less empty, and thankfully those who were there didn't actually seem to be within earshot anyway. "Like I told you last night," he said, purposely keeping his voice low, "I totally get why you wouldn't want to trust me, but I'm going to tell you a few things, okay? First of all, I'm not proud of what I did that night with you in that club, far from it, and secondly – and I don't expect you to believe me, but it's the truth – I didn't even know what kind of a place it was until I got there. I thought I was going along to some sort of poker night, for fuck's sake."

"Yeah?" Mike said quietly, although there was still venom in his voice. "So if that's the case, why didn't you leave then, huh? How come it ended up with your dick in my mouth?"

It was a fair question, and one which Harvey knew deserved an answer. "I don't know," he said at first, but then he almost immediately capitulated. "Well, I do know, okay?" he admitted. "Of course I do. It was because by that stage I was fucking horny as hell, and I thought while I was there, I might as well – "

"Take advantage of what was on offer?" Mike offered, finishing his sentence for him.

Now it was Harvey's turn to look down. "Yeah," he said. "But I want you to know I thought it was just a private party, okay? I thought that everyone there was only there because they wanted to be. I didn't know you guys were, you know … "

"Prostitutes?" Mike said. "You can say it, Harvey. _Prostitutes._ "

"Yeah, well I didn't know," Harvey insisted.

"And when you came back and you saw me in that sling? Did you know then?"

Harvey nodded. "I did," he admitted, "but as I already told you, I came back purely to see you." 

"To watch me being fucked?"

"No! God, no. I told you why I was there. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see if I could help. I wanted to get you out of there." He waited but Mike fell silent, staring moodily into his beer glass. "I was worried about you," he added. "I could see how unhappy you were."

"Unhappy?" Mike suddenly exploded. He jumped to his feet. " _Unhappy?_ Fuck, you have absolutely no idea." 

Harvey was sure he was about to storm out of the bar altogether but watched him head straight for the restroom instead. He wondered whether to follow him but decided against it, and he leaned his head right back, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. What was he even trying to do, he wondered, and why was he even so bothered about this particular kid? Mike was right, it was strange, what he was doing, and of course he should just walk away. After all, the kid would be all right, wouldn't he? He was away from that house now. Sure, he still had to go to court to face prostitution charges, but Harvey would get him off with a just a fine, he was sure of that. Hell, he'd even pay the fine for him, and then that would be it, right? He'd walk away and Mike would be out of his life once and for all.

Except he knew he didn't want that. Not really.

"Mike, I'm sorry –" Harvey started to say as the kid slid back into his seat ten minutes later but Mike shook his head.

"Look, can we just leave it?" he said. "I really don't want to talk about that stuff any more."

Harvey nodded. "Sure," he said.

They sat in silence, neither of them knowing what to say as they sipped their drinks. Finally, Mike drained his glass and looked over at the neon clock above the bar. "Look, I really need to go back to the nursing home now," he said. "I want to see my grandmother." 

This time, as soon as the girl on reception saw them approaching along the driveway, she quickly began making a call and a few seconds after they entered the glass-topped entrance hall, an older lady with silver hair and immaculate make-up came walking out towards them through the wide double doors.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she said in a smooth and gentle voice. "May I ask which of you is Mr. Ross?"

"Yeah, that's me," Mike said. "Can you take me to my grandmother now? I take it you've finally worked out where she is?"

"Mr. Ross," the woman said gently, "my name is Erin Danovich. I'm the manageress here. Sherelle told me about the difficulties she had locating your grandmother on the system earlier. If you'd like to come along to my office, it's this way."

"I just want to see my grandmother," Mike said impatiently. "Are you going to take me to see her or not?"

The woman hesitated. "Mr. Ross," she said. "If you won't come to the office, then please, will you take a seat?" She gestured to the pretty cane reception furniture with its bright over-stuffed cushions and its view of the well-kept gardens. "Please?"

"No," Mike said, shaking his head. 

"Mike," Harvey said. "I think you should do as the lady asks." 

"Look, I'm not going to sit down," Mike suddenly shouted. Several people in the vicinity stopped what they were doing to turn and stare at the sudden unexpected commotion, including a cleaner in a yellow apron who was in the process of polishing the huge glass entrance doors. "Look, I'm sorry, but people only tell you to sit down when they've got bad news to tell you," he anxiously explained. "The cops, they do that, right before they tell you the people you love have been in some terrible accident or that someone's died." He stopped abruptly and swallowed hard, swallowed down the fear which was already threatening to choke him. His expression was still angry but Harvey could see that his eyes were brimming with tears as he gazed beseechingly at the silver-haired woman in the charcoal suit.

"Please," Mrs. Danovich repeated, again gesturing with her arm.

But still Mike shook his head. "No," he said, his eyes still pinned on the woman with the perfectly coiffured hair. "If you've got something to say to me, just tell me here. Tell me right now."

She watched him sympathetically with solemn gray eyes. "Mr. Ross," she said, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but … your grandmother … Edith … she passed away several months ago. We tried to contact you at the time but we were unable to do so. I'm so very sorry."

Mike stared at her, his blue eyes round with horrified disbelief, and then he turned away, his face crumpling as he hid it with his hands. "No," he cried, his voice muffled behind his fingers. "Aw, no, no, no."

The woman looked pleadingly over at Harvey who then approached Mike carefully, stretching out a hand to touch his shoulder. Not for the first time, he expected to be shaken off, but the kid allowed himself to be guided over to one of the brightly colored couches, sinking down into its soft cushions with his forehead leaning on his tightly folded arms. After a moment, Harvey sat down beside him. 

"Can I get you both anything?" Mrs. Danovich asked softly. "Water, perhaps? A cup of tea?"

"Maybe some Kleenex?" Harvey suggested and she nodded before drifting silently away. When she came back, she'd brought Mike a glass of water anyway, which she set carefully down in front of him.

"I want to know what happened," Mike said, sniffing loudly as he sat up. Ignoring the water, he grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped his eyes. As he blew his nose, Mrs. Danovich sat down opposite him, carefully arranging the pleats of her charcoal skirt over her knees before she started to speak.

"Of course you want to know," she said. "It was all very sudden. Mrs. Ross – your grandmother – she suffered a coronary in the day room one morning shortly after breakfast. The staff on duty called an ambulance immediately and CPR was administered by our qualified nurses until the EMTs arrived, but unfortunately we were unable to save her. But I promise you, Mr. Ross, she didn't suffer too much or for too long. It was all over very quickly."

Mike sniffed again, nodding his head. "Thanks," he said. "That's good to know." He huffed out a shuddery breath and wiped his nose again with his fistful of tissues. "Where is she now?" he eventually managed to ask.

Mrs. Danovich looked at him with sympathy. "Well, fortunately your grandmother left quite detailed instructions about what we should do in the event of her death," she said gently. "I believe she was buried in your family's plot."

"Right," Mike whispered. "Thanks."

Harvey sat quietly beside him, watching through the wide picture windows as an elderly man slowly traversed the enclosed courtyard on the arm of a young, dark-haired nurse. Catching a movement to the side of him, he turned, seeing the girl from the reception desk meekly approaching with her head bowed, a large cardboard carton held in her arms.

"Mrs. Ross's paperwork and personal effects," she said quietly, putting the box down on the chair beside them before scurrying back to her desk. 

"I can see it's all been a bit of a shock for you," Mrs. Danovich said kindly to Mike. "If there's anything else you want to know, either today or at a later date, please don't hesitate to ask. And please know, Mr. Ross," she added softly, "we're all very sorry for your loss." She waited but when Mike didn't look up or say anything, she stood up, nodded at Harvey and then retreated quietly in order to leave them both in peace.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they got back to the apartment, Mike – understandably so – seemed completely numb. The devastating news about his grandmother had clearly hit him hard, and although Harvey had kept casting little sideways glances at him throughout the awkward silence during the taxi ride home, the boy had just continued to stare out of the window with his arms draped loosely over the unopened cardboard carton balanced on his lap. Harvey had expected him to want to open it when they'd returned to the apartment but he'd put it down near the front entrance and hadn't looked at again for the rest of the evening. 

"I'm sorry about your grandmother," Harved had started to say, but Mike had fled to the bathroom, spending so long in there that Harvey had stood at the door for a while, listening to make sure he was okay and when he'd finally emerged almost an hour later, his eyes were red and swollen and he quietly asked if he could help himself to some more of the painkillers from the drawer in the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure," Harvey said, turning as he muted the TV. "There's plenty of bottled water in the refrigerator. Help yourself." 

Just then his cell phone started to ring. "Excuse me," he said after glancing down at it and seeing Reinhart's name in the display. "I need to take this." He stood up and crossed over to the tall windows on the other side of the room. "Harvey Specter," he said. He listened for a moment, looking out at the Manhattan skyline, then: "I can't tonight." Glancing over his shoulder at Mike in the kitchen he added, "Something came up. Tomorrow? Yeah, yeah, okay. About noon? Yes, that'll be fine. Bye." He stuffed his cell phone back into his pocket before turning to look at Mike, and frowned as he noticed how agitatedly he was stirring the contents of the drawer. "You okay there, kid?" he asked but Mike shook his head, clearly irritated.

"Look, don't you have anything better than this shit?" he said. "Something stronger?"

"That's all I have right now," Harvey replied, his frown deepening.

"But you must have something better than this?" Mike insisted angrily, holding up a pack of generic painkillers, the kind you could pick up at any corner store."I need something that'll really take the edge off and this won't touch it."

"It must be bad then," Harvey said, sympathetic and yet wary at the same time. 

"Yeah, well my head fucking hurts like hell," Mike snapped at him as he slammed the drawer shut with a bang. "My neck hurts, fuck, even my chest hurts. I can't fucking breathe, Goddammit. You must have something else?"

"I told you - "

"Not painkillers then," Mike said, shrugging his narrow shoulders. "Sleeping tablets, tranquilizers. Anything. Antihistamines, even. I – I just – I just need _something_. Harvey, please." 

And then Harvey suddenly thought he realized what was going on. They must have fed Mike all kinds of crap in that house, either to keep him quiet or when they were offering him up as part of their services. The phrases _restrained and/or sedated_ and _the ideal partner for the fulfilment of your drug-assisted rape fantasy_ came into his mind. Jesus, no wonder the kid was screwed. "Wait here," he said, and when he came back he was carrying a pack of sleeping pills he'd once picked up from the drug store when he'd been having trouble sleeping a while back, when he and Jessica had been fighting off Daniel Hardman. He'd only taken a couple in the end before deciding they weren't for him, as he'd hated the groggy feeling they left him with in the morning. His doctor had offered him a prescription brand but by then Hardman had been gone and he was back to sleeping normally anyway.

"These might help," he said, throwing the box to Mike. "Take it easy though. It's court in the morning, don't forget."

After that, and after Mike had wolfed down the pills, he sat in an uneasy silence for a while, while his guest, wearing a sweatshirt Harvey had loaned him and obviously still twitchy, roamed the apartment, picking things up and putting them down, and perusing Harvey's DVD collection. Eventually, it seemed the drugs began having some effect, because he came and dropped himself onto the couch opposite Harvey. The TV was set to a channel showing a ball game and Harvey left it on, both of them watching for a while without really seeing. Harvey wondered if Mike wanted to talk about his grandmother but he didn't really know how to start the conversation, and so instead he figured that if Mike really wanted to talk about her then he would probably do so when he was ready.

"Want a drink?" Harvey offered at last, remembering one time how Donna had insisted on making sugary tea for an old lady whose husband had dropped dead during his deposition. "How about some tea?" 

Mike shook his head. "How about something stronger?" he asked. "I saw some scotch back there before."

"Do you think that's really such a good idea?" Harvey asked doubtfully. "On top of sleeping pills?"

"They're not real sleeping pills though, are they?" Mike said dismissively. "Just over the counter stuff."

Harvey sighed but it didn't take him long to retrieve a bottle and glasses and pour out two generous measures of the dark amber liquor, although he was surprised when Mike knocked his straight back then held out his glass for more.

"Bottle's there," Harvey said. "Help yourself." He watched as Mike poured himself another double measure. "You wanna go easy on that, kid," he said. "Don't drink too much."

"Too much of anything is bad," Mike said between sips. At least he was sipping now, Harvey noticed, and not gulping.

"But too much good whiskey is never enough," Harvey finished, acknowledging the quotation. "Mark Twain, right?"

Mike nodded.

"All the same, you shouldn't drink too heavily when you've taken any kind of medication. They don't usually mix."

Mike shrugged. "It'll help," he said. "Hey, what was that you were saying this morning, about my arraignment? You need me to tell you some stuff or something?"

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Harvey said. "It's just that I need some information so that I can represent tomorrow morning. Hopefully I'll get you off with just a fine." 

Mike leaned back and crossed his legs. "What kind of information?" he asked.

"Well, like how long you'd been working as an ... well, working there at that house, the circumstances that led you to working there, that kind of thing."

Mike sighed. He looked a lot more relaxed than he had half an hour ago: the drugs and alcohol were clearly taking effect. His eyes were still swollen though and he suddenly looked as if he might start crying again. "You asked me how someone like me could end up in a place like that," he said, after a few hard swallows. "Well, when I first met you, I was already on my way down. I know I told you a bit about how I got involved in that drug deal, but I didn't say anything about why."

"Well, I'm guessing it had something to do with the debts you mentioned," Harvey prompted quietly.

"My grandmother," Mike said, looking away and biting his lip as his eyes filled with tears which he brushed away fiercely with the back of his hand. "Her insurance wouldn't pay for the specialist care she needed," he continued through gritted teeth, as he fought to control his tears. "The bills, they were just piling up, one after another. And I just wanted her to have the best care, you know?"

Harvey nodded, then looked down at his pad as he wrote a few notes. This was perfect, he decided. Extenuating circumstances were always favorable in court and a good sob story certainly wouldn't do Mike's chances any harm.

"Do you remember I told you about Trevor?" Mike asked him, rubbing his face with his sleeve. "The old school friend of mine?"

"The one who set you up with the drug deal?"

Mike nodded, surprised that Harvey had remembered. "Yeah, well I was sleeping on his couch after I got kicked out of my apartment. He told me there was a way to make a lot of money real fast, much faster than dealing drugs, and he set me up to meet these two guys at the house. They gave me the money for twelve months care at a top facility for my grandmother, gave me a check right up front, and with the money they said they were going to be paying me, I thought I'd be able to save for the future. I mean, they got me to sign a contract and everything. It all seemed okay, only, well, it didn't quite work out the way I expected it to."

"No?"

Mike shook his head. "No. When I got to the house I found the set up was very different from what I'd been led to believe."

"In what way?"

Mike looked away. "In every way," he said. 

Harvey waited. He could see that Mike was finding this difficult and obligingly he poured him another measure of scotch.

"In what way, Mike?" Harvey repeated.

Mike shrugged. "Like, I don't know. I guess I knew there'd be clients there and shit but I thought it was going to be like some kind of party where people paired off with each other and went off into rooms for sex. Like in my head I thought maybe it wouldn't be that bad but instead it was worse. God, it was so much worse."

Harvey wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear much more, but the liquor had loosened Mike's tongue and he went straight on. 

"They said I had to audition at first," he said. "They wanted to see what I could do ... like, do stuff with them, right there in the office. When I refused, they beat me up a little, forced me to swallow all these pills and then they took me down to the basement and strapped me in a sling. I think maybe I got fucked by about twenty guys that night, maybe even thirty, I don't know. I lost count after about the first ten or so, or maybe I just passed out."

"Jesus, Mike."

"The next day when I woke up, I couldn't believe how much it hurt. And worse than that, I just felt so ... so humiliated, you know? So I told them I wanted to leave."

"But they wouldn't let you?"

Mike shook his head. "They said that I wouldn't be able to until I'd earned enough money to pay them off," he said. He was starting to slur his words but nevertheless, he still lifted his glass and drained it.

"Why didn't you just leave anyway?" Harvey asked."Maybe try to find another way to pay back the money you owed them?"

Mike shook his head in an exaggerated fashion as if Harvey had something really stupid. He was pretty drunk by now. "I couldn't just leave," he said. "They kept us locked up pretty tight."

"Locked up? What do you mean?"

Again, that look from Mike. "What the fuck do you think it means?" he said. He lurched, forwards groping for the bottle of scotch but Harvey quickly moved it out of his reach.

"Hey, c'mon," Mike protested.

"Wait, Mike, this is important," Harvey said. "When you told me before that you didn't ever go home, was that because they were keeping you there against your will? As in, you were a _prisoner_? Is that what you're telling me?" 

Mike nodded. "Why d'ya think they kept giving me all those pills?" he said, his words starting to run together. "At first they said it wasn't gonna work out and they'd stop the check they'd paid out to the home, but then some boss guy said he'd really enjoyed fucking me while I was tranked and it could become, you know, like a thing? Like some fetish or something, and then I thought yeah, why the hell not? At least I wouldn't care then and I'd get to keep the money and Grammy would be okay." He made another lunge for the bottle and again Harvey removed it from his reach. "Thing was," he said, picking up his empty glass, "you didn't ever get to the point where you were free from debt. You always ended up owing them more, like for y'know, food and - and medicine and stuff …" His words trailed away into a drunken mumble as he slid down the couch. "Oh, Grammy," he suddenly wailed, and then he was banging his glass clumsily down on the table and hiding his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Harvey watched him, unsure of what to do at first. In the end, he went to fetch a glass of water and waited for the sobs to subside.

"Have some water," he said eventually, relieved when Mike scrubbed his cheeks with his fingers then obediently picked up the glass.

"Think those pills are working after all," he said, the words sloshing round his mouth with the water.

"Yeah, that and the quarter bottle of whiskey you've had, kid," Harvey said. "Come on, up you get." He hauled Mike to his feet. "Let's get you into bed, yeah? None of this sleeping on the couch nonsense tonight. Come on."

"That's what they always say," Mike replied, his words thick and slurred through the drugs and drink and tears, his chin on his chest. "The men like you."

Harvey was stung but nevertheless, he supported Mike as best he could. "I just want you to get a good night's sleep before court in the morning, Mike," he said, "that's all. Come on."

They staggered into the bedroom and Mike slumped down onto his back. Harvey, with the intention of removing the boy's jeans so that he could sleep more comfortably, leaned over and begun to fumble with his button and fly but moved away when he heard him speak. 

"You gonna fuck me now, Harvey?" he mumbled up at him, his eyes almost closed. "I don't mind, y'know. You can fuck me if you wanna."

"You're gonna go to sleep now, Mike," Harvey said, settling for just pulling off his sneakers instead before firmly pulling the covers over him, "but I'll come wake you up early, okay?" He turned and headed for the door, but then Mike mumbled something else. "What was that?" Harvey questioned, turning back.

"I said please don't lock me in," Mike repeated, more clearly this time. "Please?"

"I won't," Harvey assured him, and then he very deliberately left the door ajar as he left the room.


End file.
